


Heart Extraction

by darkrosaleen



Category: Indiana Jones Series
Genre: BDSM where submissive partner is more powerful, Bloodplay, Character Study, Established Relationship, F/M, Femdom, Painplay, Sadist meets very compatible masochist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:21:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 956
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28909233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkrosaleen/pseuds/darkrosaleen
Summary: Marion has unconventional tastes, but being conventional is overrated.Besides, Jones is even worse.
Relationships: Henry "Indiana" Jones/Marion Ravenwood
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21





	Heart Extraction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firecat/gifts).



Indiana Jones looks good bleeding.

Granted, Indiana looks good in anything, including stolen Nazi uniforms and smeared with animal dung. But as Marion stares at the long red wound on Indiana's chest, heat rising in her cheeks and between her legs, she thinks that most women would have tapped out by now. Even face to face with Indiana's bare chest.

Indiana can see where Marion is staring, and he seems to fidget more than usual. "I forgot you're a vampire," he says, his voice dripping with deadpan disdain. It doesn't match the bulge stirring in his trousers.

Marion has been wobbly-kneed for that voice ever since she was a girl swooning over her father's handsome colleague. She was the same age when she realized she was wobbly over other things, things that no innocent daughter of a respected academic should think about: blood and bruises, men captured and bound, pain and torture of the worst kind.

People who use phrases like "respected academic" are unaware of the gruesome reality of antiquities. Marion was studying ritual Mayan penis-cutting by the time she was twelve. She sometimes wonders if that's what made her perversions take root—if being raised by a normal man in a normal suburban house would've stamped out these improper feelings.

Whatever perversions Marion has, Indiana is just as bad. He squirms under her gaze, and she'd bet that he's struggling not to reach up and touch the wound on his chest. Or to beg; he's gorgeous when he begs.

"Marion," he warns. She can barely detect the quiver in his voice. 

Marion grins. She's good at this game.

"Hands above your head," Marion says. Indiana quickly brings both hands to the headboard and grips it tightly, like he's a Civil War soldier about to get a limb sawed off with no anesthetic. Marion shudders.

She crawls onto the bed and straddles Indiana's thighs, just below the place where his erection tents the fabric. "Indy," she croons, running her palms up and down his ribs. "Look what a mess you made of yourself. Doesn't it hurt?"

Indiana sucks in a breath, his ribs expanding under her hands. "Yeah, it hurts. Hurts mighty bad. Ruined my favorite linen shirt with all the blood."

Marion smiles at that mental image, hips rocking gently against him. "You're reckless, Indy. Foolish as a schoolboy. I'd almost say you like getting hurt." She runs one careful, gentle finger under the cut, and Indiana gasps and bucks underneath her.

The first time they did this, Marion was an innocent, lovestruck schoolgirl with little experience in lovemaking. Indiana was older, wiser, a grown man respected in his field. But when he shuddered in pain under Marion's hands, she felt like a powerful ancient queen with a loyal subject at her mercy, or maybe a goddess presented with a captured warrior for sacrifice.

Marion drags her finger across the cut, picking up a smear of blood. Indiana breaths rapidly, but doesn't move his hands from the headboard. Marion lifts her finger to Indiana's mouth and smears his own blood on his lips. It's wet and shiny and so, so vividly red.

"Lick it off," Marion says, bringing her finger back to the wound and slipping her other hand into her trousers. "Tell me what it tastes like."

Indiana's tongue darts out to lick his mouth. "Salty. Sharp. God, Marion, you make me want such wicked things."

Marion grins, speeding up the fingers on her clit. "Don't lie to me, Indy. You're more wicked than me." Her other hand tightens, digging into the cut until a fresh stream of blood trickles out. Indiana swears and nearly bucks her off his lap. Marion sweeps the fresh blood onto her finger and raises it to her mouth, grinding her hips against Indiana's hard cock. It does taste salty, and Marion moans around her own fingers.

"Love watching you," Indiana murmurs, driving his hips up against her. "You're like some great war goddess, Sekhmet or Tiamat. You could destroy me and I'm powerless to stop you."

Heat spreads through Marion's body. "I like that. You're helpless, nothing but fragile flesh and blood." She presses her fingers into the cut again, gasping at the sticky wetness that wells up around her fingers, at the dark, shiny blood that seeps out into Indiana's chest hair.

Marion whimpers, and she's barely started to speed up when a big hand stops her wrist. Big hands pull her gently to her knees and tug her trousers down over her hips. Marion forgets to chastise him for moving his hands, because his long fingers are slipping inside her, working her body with a single-minded determination that makes Marion cry out and bite her lip.

Marion brings her free hand to Indiana's pants, clumsily working the buttons free. She concentrates more on the hand still playing with the wound on his chest, and her precision there is rewarded with more swears and grunts, Indiana's cock pulsing in her hand as she strokes him absently. He really does like pain, more than he likes most other stimulation. Just watching him react to her cruel fingers makes Marion gasp and buck her hips against Indiana's hand, reaching a fast climax as he shoved his fingers roughly inside her.

Marion's hands stop moving, which earns a frustrated noise. Grinning, she returns to her previous activities, stroking and rubbing Indiana until he arches sharply and comes all over his chest, matting his chest hair with something other than blood. Marion collapses on the bed next to him, not bothering to wipe herself clean.

"I should probably clean that cut," Marion says after a while. Indiana groans miserably, and even in her sated state, Marion feels a little thrill.

**Author's Note:**

> In the event that you haven't seen Raiders of the Lost Ark, [this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EmZ-_MgewjY) was very inspirational to the writing of this fic.


End file.
